


Riding A Heat Wave

by relic_amaranth



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempted Cuddling, Established Relationship, F/M, Fade to Black, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, Innuendo, Intimacy, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Reader-Insert, Summer, heat wave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-03 01:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15808728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: It’s too hot. Bucky and Steve try to…help? Yes, that’s what they call it. “Helping.” You’re not convinced, but you’re willing to let them try.





	Riding A Heat Wave

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Fluffy, cranky!Reader, innuendo, intimacy, fade-to-black sexy times, use of ‘sweetheart’ for reader but body not described.
> 
> A/N: I tried to write other things that just went *fart noise* so here, have this little nonsense piece of fluff. It’s a bad week for writing, but I like to try anyways, so I just picked some random words for prompts (lemonade/dehydration/power outage/popsicles) and this thing was born. Also, if you’re pretty resilient to the heat or have never had air conditioning, just imagine that in this scenario the home you’re in is hotter than the weather outside. I am…painfully aware of this phenomenon right now, as my house falls apart, one (expensive) problem after another. Hah. Anyways. Please enjoy fluffy super soldier plot-less nonsense. It is one of my favorite types of nonsense.

 

Summer can go fuck itself.

You hadn’t hated it until two days ago when your central air failed and you realized you couldn’t get anyone out to fix it for a week. A _week_ without AC. During a heat wave.

Yeah, summer can go fuck itself.

You’re laying on a towel on the floor in shorts, your tank top cast aside, with a fan blowing right on you. Even with the loud whir of circulating air you can hear the lock turn, and while you don’t have any time to get up, neither do you really have the inclination. All the energy has slowly sweat right out of you so whoever comes through that door is welcome to share this hellscape with you. Thankfully, there are only two people with keys that can barge in on you without warning.

“It’s warm in–” Steve stops just before he kicks you which is, well, nice. Except then he’s on the floor, poking and picking at you. “Are you all right? What happened?”

His ‘captain voice’ is wavering with panic and you swat his hands away. “I’m fine. It’s just fucking _hot_.”

“Oh.” He surreptitiously takes a steadying breath and you lift your head. Even his normally nice hair is wilting in the heat, but he smiles at you and you pat his hand.

“You trying to imagine yourself on a nice beach there sweetheart?” Bucky says and sits next to Steve to give him a quick calming kiss.

“Hah. Hah.” You glare at him and he grins. You set your head back down and sigh. “This is the coolest spot in the house. Trust me, I checked.” Extensively. It’s about all you _can_ do since you have to save your money for the repairman.

“Well, we’re not complaining,” Steve says with an air of amusement. How can he be amused when it’s so fucking _hot_? “What happened to your air?”

“Power went out and the damn thing wouldn't come back on,” you say. Maybe a touch grumpy. “Can’t get repairs for a week. I’m _dying_.”

“I see,” Steve says and Bucky chuckles. You press your forehead flat and fold your arms behind your head to flip them both off.

Still, it is nice to have them around, so you lie quietly and try not to die of heatstroke while they mess around in your kitchen and whisper and kiss. The kissing sounds nice but it’s too hot to touch another person. Is it possible to make-out while not touching any other body part? Maybe, but it sounds too awkward, and Steve and Bucky are way too cuddly for that to happen for long.

Something shockingly cold hits your back and you jump. “What the fuck?!”

Steve laughs because of course that was him. Bucky slides in to sit next to you and takes it off your back to hand it to you. A popsicle. “We found these in your freezer, and some lemonade,” he says. “Want some?” He puts the cup near your face.

“Nah. This’ll be good. Thanks.” You unwrap your treat and after dusting off a little extra ice, find it to be perfectly serviceable. The only problem is the heat makes you have to eat it fast or else drown in sticky syrup. Still, it’s good, and Bucky and Steve sit on either side of you and tell you about their morning, which devolves into loving bickering over who really won the ‘training war’. (You’re not going to ask. It sounds dumb.) But it’s nice and the noise is just enough that you really start to relax.

Until something wet and cold splashes onto your back. Not much, but enough to make you ask, “What the hell was that?”

“Lemonade,” Bucky says.

“You spilled lemonade on me?”

“Yup. Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “Hold still and I’ll get it.”

“It’s gonna be all sticky,” you grumble but stay still, waiting for him to get up and grab a napkin.

Instead he leans over you and _licks_ it off. The shock of warm and wet pressure makes your skin ripple and you let out a choked noise that you will deny to your dying day was a whimper. “Wha–” You lift your head up and look right at a smug damn smirk. “Did you just…”

“It’s real good.” He takes another sip and widens his eyes into the picture of innocence. “I don’t wanna _waste_ it.”

“Maybe be more careful then,” you say, but whatever heat you wanted to put into it just remains listlessly in the air and you flop back down. You’re not as relaxed as before, but not in a bad way. Touching still sounds terrible, but–

Something _else_ cold touches your back, but it doesn’t feel like liquid. “ _Steve_.”

“My popsicle fell. Oops,” he says cheerfully. He doesn’t even _pretend_ ; just leans over and starts licking and– goddamn it, _suckling_ – along where he dropped it. You try not to but you squirm a little as his lips and tongue work their way up one side of your back.

“This,” you say, your voice strained, “–is _not_ cooling me down.”

Bucky chuckles and runs his fingers up your back, nails lightly but presently pulling across your bare skin. You don’t even try to hold in a groan. “Might as well earn the sweat. Right?”

Well…

You can’t really argue with that.

 

When all is said and done you’re in a much better mood but it is still hot as fuck– and the sheets are all messed up from Bucky and Steve’s pleasant but messy sugary additions. When you try to get up, though, Bucky reaches for you. “Why are you leaving?” he asks, much too cute for your own good.

“Too hot to lie in bed.” You give him a side eye. “Also: sorry baby, but it is _way_ too fucking hot to cuddle.”

His eyes widen like he hadn’t thought of that. Steve’s got his thinking cap on though, by the look of his face. “You know, we have central air,” he says.

“Must be nice,” you say and cross your arms.

“Wanna stay at our place for the weekend?”

It sounds fucking heavenly. But you have to take in how your boyfriends are looking at each other which…does nothing to deter you. Even when they get out of bed and you have to focus your eyes upward, lest you all end up back in it again. “I’d like that,” you say, and you let them come in for a hug. Not for long, but just as you’re about to politely shuffle away from all the body heat, Steve puts something in your hand. A key ring with two keys.

“One for the door and one for the deadbolt,” Steve says, pointing at one and then the other. He’s fidgeting and Bucky’s looking away. “Just– you don’t have to, but it seems fair. We have keys to yours, so…”

“Oh. Is that all.” You smile at these two loveable idiots, because it’s like they’re two awkward teenage geeks asking you to prom. You give them each a kiss. “Thank you. My home is always yours. You don’t _have_ to give me access to yours.”

“But you _are_ ,” Bucky blurts out, and when you look at him he looks away again when he clarifies: “Home.”

It takes you a minute, but when you piece that sentence together you…feel a little flushed too. “Oh,” you say quietly. You clear your throat. “Let’s get going before we all die of heatstroke and dehydration. Get dressed and help me close up all the windows.”

“Understood, Major,” Steve says and salutes.

Bucky grins. “I don’t know if any of us can say we’re dehydrated after–”

“Do you want these back?” you ask and jangle the keys. The speed at which he shuts his mouth and shakes his head is heartwarming, but you laugh nonetheless.

“Anyways, I’m gonna pack a bag.” You smirk. “The repairman isn’t coming for days and I have keys to your house. Good luck getting rid of me now, _suckers_.”

Bucky and Steve share smiles, and then look at you. “That’s sort of the point,” Steve says. “We don’t really want to.”

Again, that sort of thing calls for a hug in decidedly not-hug-friendly weather, so you change the subject pronto. “Challenge accepted,” you say, and go to your dresser. A shadow looms behind you. “It’s _still too hot for cuddling_!”

Bucky grumbles and Steve laughs.

And they both hug you anyway.

Jerks.


End file.
